Chapter 2 #4
“You,” she said simply, her eyes unapologetically roaming his body. “The weather is perfect today. I know you probably got a plan in mind, but I’d love for us to just chill at the beach.”
“That’s cool. We gotta make a quick stop first though. I got a surprise for you,” he told her, pulling her in closer for a kiss.
They took turns washing each other down, but this was them.
This was their normal. This was their element.
The dimension they walked in when they were together made them impalpable.
Damn near elusive in the way they built each other up in ways that went beyond the physical realm.
It was always in the words they didn’t say.
The feeling they gave each other with a glance.
They’d both had each other spoiled with no intention of stopping.
Once they stepped out of the shower, Promise took her time moisturizing every inch of Monroe’s physique, her hands moving slow, cherishing the opportunity to touch him.
She liked taking care of him. Loved how he let her.
After she was done, she sprayed her signature scent, then slipped into a white linen asymmetrical romper; pairing it with white sandals, her pretty white toes on display; the diamond accessories added just enough shine, and her hair was parted precisely down the middle, draping smoothly down her back.
Monroe kept it just as clean, wearing a white linen short set and white Retro Jordan 4 ‘Pure Money Edition’. His diamond-encrusted Cuban link chain sat heavy on his chest, a Patek wrapped around his wrist, and two iced-out rings finished the look without him having to do too much.
Louis Vuitton Imagine.
It was indeed cologne, but it served more like a statement.
“Don’t make me go to jail today,” Promise told him as soon as the mist touched his skin.
Monroe chuckled. “What you mean, Doll?”
There was nothing like a man who understood the art of wearing a phenomenal scent, the lasting impact it made on a woman was unforgettable.
In Promise’s book, there were two things that she’d never forget about a man–his scent, his voice, and the way he made her feel.
Every real man knows a good scent will beat him to a room, and linger long after he leaves.
Pay attention to the scent he chooses… it speaks even when he doesn't. Choose the one who makes your spirit feel free and secure. Her father had taught her well. Promise wasn’t naive to judge every man solely on his ability to excite her senses because a rich scent could introduce a man…
but only earned trust, integrity, and commitment would determine his placement for the long haul.
Though, she had inwardly felt he wanted her to always remember how a nigga looked just in case he ever needed to pay him a visit.
Promise had missed her father something serious, but despite the ache in her heart, she had found peace that surpassed what her mind could fathom.
“You gonna have me out here snatching hoes up today for staring too long I see.” Promise smirked.
Monroe chuckled. “I can’t stop ‘em from lookin’, but a nigga don’t even notice that shit. I’m too busy studyin’ you.”
“I hear you,” Promise blushed and dismissed.
When he said things like this she had taken it as him smooth-talking her, but it was his truth. That was the mystery though. Monroe was all in, and it was only a matter of time before he revealed his hand.
“Real shit, Doll. I ain’t impressed by no other woman. You all the woman a nigga need, and I’m well satisfied,” Monroe revealed truthfully.
“Rae and Amor thought Truth and Syn were satisfied too, and look at all that shit they went through,” Promise divulged seriously.
Monroe bore into her eyes, but didn’t speak right away. He weighed her words, knowing that at that moment more than another promise and his presence, she needed assurance.
“You right,” he agreed. “Their story ain’t our reality, Doll,” he sprayed himself a few more times then sat his cologne down.
“I can’t speak for the next man, even if they are my best friends.
Shit, blood couldn’t make us any closer, but the shit they do is them.
It ain’t my job to analyze the way they move,” he stepped into Promise’s space, lifting her chin, and commanded her eyes to look at him.
“My words and actions ain’t never gon’ be a contradiction.
You can choose to ignore my words, but my actions gon’ always reveal the truth about my intentions. ”
Pressing her soft lips to his, Promise kissed his lips, sealing her agreement. “You’re right.”
“I know,” Monroe shot back with a knowing smirk. “You ready?”
Promise nodded, slipping her hand into his as they made their way to the door.
After opening her door and making sure she was settled, Monroe moved around the car and slid behind the wheel of his 2026 Aston Martin Vanquish Volante.
The engine purred to life, and Lil Baby’s St. Tropez oozed smoothly through the speakers, perfectly matching the laid-back energy that had carried their morning from the moment they woke up.
As they cruised through town, Promise marveled at the soft pastel buildings, shops, and charming boutiques that lined the streets.
The beauty of it all felt effortless. However, when they rode past Place Des Lices Area and FrancoisRue Sibilli, Promise had made a mental note to peep in before they went back to New York.
It took about twenty-five minutes to reach LouLou Beach Club. Monroe eased his car into the reserved parking space before killing the engine, the low hum fading into the warm St. Tropez air.
“I was just looking at this beach while we were on the plane last night,” Promise said softly.
Her smile instantaneously made his heart palpitate, further confirming that he’d made the right decision to take this impromptu trip to St. Tropez with her.
He stepped out first, circling the car to open her door before guiding her toward the entrance with his hand resting at the small of her back, their steps naturally in sync.
Monroe led in every area of life, and today was no different.
The ocean stretched endlessly beside the restaurant, waves kissing the shore as sunlight shimmered across the water like diamonds scattered on glass.
Soft conversation and distant laughter blended with the breeze.
The VIP section was positioned perfectly, offering the best angled view of the shoreline without feeling crowded.
Monroe usually preferred privacy, upscale settings, spaces where eyes didn’t linger too long, and conversations stayed contained.
However, this day wasn’t about preference, he was on a mission with one goal in mind- to introduce Promise to his mother.
He'd been a little misleading to both his mother and Promise, but he didn't want Promise to be nervous; and he didn't want his mother to try talking him out of a relationship that he was beyond sure about.
As they approached the VIP, Monroe instantly spotted his mother sipping her signature mimosa.
She was in pure Macie Black form. She had always carried herself like royalty, her posture effortless, her expression composed in a way that rarely betrayed her thoughts.
She never truly rested. Even in stillness, her mind stayed moving.
It was as if she felt her sons' eyes on her because as soon as she looked up, Monroe's eyes were on her.
An instant smile graced her face, but she inwardly cringed when she realized he had brought company with him.
What the fuck is this shit, Macie thought as Monroe and Promise made their way towards her.
Macie swallowed the rest of her mimosa slowly, carefully sitting the glass down as Monroe and Promise approached.
Years of discipline kept her expression smooth, welcoming, and motherly.
Macie was protective. She always had been.
Monroe could read his mother from a mile away. He felt her discomfort, but dismissed it, figuring she'd get over it once she saw for herself how sweet Promise was, and how good she was for him. Macie didn’t miss the way they moved together.
Effortless Alignment.
Natural Chemistry.
King they simply gravitated, and their energy balanced in a way that suggested permanence.
Promise carried herself with the type of confidence that intimidated women who didn’t know their own power, and were unsure of who they were.
There was no nervous fidgeting, or desperate need for approval.
She didn’t shrink in the presence of power.
Macie recognized it right away because she carried the same aura.
A fucking distraction I gotta deal with, Macie quickly surmised, her expression unreadable.
Macie noticed everything.
The way Monroe’s protective instinct subtly positioned Promise closer to the inside of the table.
The ease in Promise’s posture. The way Monroe held her hand, and he’d never been openly affectionate with anyone around her.
They were a dangerous combination, and Macie’s mind raced, thinking of ways she’d destroy whatever her son thought he was about to build.
“What’s good, Ma Dukes?” Monroe greeted warmly, leaning down to embrace her. His smile was genuine, boyish in a way only his mother ever saw. Macie leaned forward, returning the embrace with measured affection.
The look on Promise's face was priceless.
Surprised was an understatement. The sudden urge to cuss Monroe out in front of his mother was at an all-time high.
Her mouth opened then closed twice. It was a good thing that Promise understood that first impressions were the ones that stuck with people forever.
Anything done after that increased or decreased your value, but ten chances to one nothing would change the first time.
“Monroe,” she replied smoothly, her voice rich with pride. “You lookin’ good.”